Chasing Cars
by natashas-barton
Summary: After phone call in the middle of the night, Natasha finds herself in the hospital. Faced with an accident in the Barton family, Natasha is forced to make a decision that she hoped she would never have to go through with.
1. Chapter 1

Sudden inspiration came for this fan fiction after I watched a scene on a show. _Possible trigger warnings:_ sad themes and descriptions of end of life care.

It was a day she always knew would eventually come, and yet it didn't happen like she had ever expected it to.

A call from Steve startled her awake in the middle of the night.

"Steve wha-"

"There's been an accident, Natasha." He interjected firmly.

She sat up slowly, the annoyed look in her eyes and face vanished. She slowly pushed a strand of red hair out of her gaze unable to find words. Her silence, she assumed, would suffice as an indication that she was ready for Steve to continue.

"Barton's in surgery. He was in an automobile wreck earlier this evening, while driving home from SHIELD's Airfield."

Steve spoke slowly, but to Natasha every word sped by her, each devastating revelation hitting her with the speed of a jet. Steve ran his mouth, and while hit voice was calm, he was unable to soften the blows.

"He was on country back roads. The roads were icy, and there was another flipped car. EMS didn't arrive fast enough, and he's in critical condition. He was helicoptered to the nearest hospital when he was finally found."

"Who else knows?" She managed to ask.

"I mean, I just got here but apparently he's been in the OR for hours now and-"

"Steve, who else knows about Clint?" She asked.

Her words were perceived by Rogers in a tone as cold as ice. Exhaling slowly, the overwhelmed and yet evasive soldier finally spoke, defeatedly.

"Fury didn't want me to tell you. No one else knows."

Outraged, Natasha yelled,

"You didn't think to call his family first? Laura must-"

"Natasha."

She couldn't remember a time where Steve's voice sounded so heavy, and cold. The shock of the severity of his tone silenced her.

"Natasha..." His voice softened and trailed, almost like an exhausted exhale. One last breath of defeat.

She lowered her gaze, and gripped the phone tightly as Steve finally said through a broken voice, almost unable to muster the words,

"They don't think he's going to make it."

By the time the five of them were sitting in those hard plastic chairs in the midst of long white halls, the bustling stream of the hospital corridors was silenced. The light brown coat Laura had been wearing was draped over Lila's form as she laid on her mother's lap asleep. A lowered head and unkempt brown hair concealed the face of Cooper. Laura sat between the two, her gaze lowered towards Lila as she stroked her hair weakly.

Cradled in Laura's other arm, swaddled in a blue blanket, was young Nathaniel Barton. Still too young to understand the pain his siblings, mother, and namesake felt - Natasha both envied and pitied him. He may never have to live remembering the pain of tonight, the long hours they had waited, the look in his siblings' and mother's eyes when she told them. He felt no pain now, but Natasha knew he may end up living his whole life without knowing his father.

Laura's eyes had dried by now. They were still brimmed pink, and gleaned with fatigue and pain, but she put on a small, even if hopeless, smile for her children. Natasha could not bring herself to do the same. When she stole a glance at Cooper's slumped form, she soon realized, her solemn attitude was contagious.

The halls were dark, for it was the wee hours of the morning now. Laura's attention never faltered, even if she looked exhausted, the woman never dozed off. Natasha couldn't blame her, even if she was tired enough to sleep in such a cold and uncomfortable setting, she would never be at ease enough to sleep. For like Laura, they could not sleep knowing time could be missed, and then just like that, it could be over.

The two women could not sleep, knowing they could wake up to the news they both dreaded.

The man who walked out to them hours later was not who Natasha expected to get news from. Steve walked up slowly to them, his gaze softening and saddening at the sight of the Bartons. Laura looked up from where she laid a gentle hand on Lila's head, and her tired gaze met that of Steve's as he kneeled down next to her.

"Mrs. Barton, I'm going to stay with your kids while you and Nat talk with the doctor."

When Steve sent them down to the lulling depths of the ICU, Natasha knew no good news waited for them below. In the elevator that descended slower than the rising of the sun, one look at Laura's misted eyes, and she knew that she understood the reality as well.

The doctor brought them into a darkened room, separated from the view of dying patients, sparing them the visualization of what he had to tell them. To Natasha, the conversation was torn up, and scattered in her mind.

"Mrs. Barton, your husband _was_ a hero...his service as an Avenger...we can't thank you enough for your sacrifice...this was an unfortunate accident...we did all we could...life support...can keep him on for a certain amount of hours...organ failure...internal bleeding...lost too much blood...I'm so sorry...brain dead."

Laura's cheeks were brushed with slow streams of tears. Natasha only stared at the doctor, her gaze dead and unforgiving. The doctor rushed to comfort Laura naturally, as the soon-to-be widow buried her head in her hands and sobbed. Natasha continued to stare unseeing as the scene unfolded. The only thing to comfort her, was the sensation of her chest caving inwards.

"Do you want me to bring the kids down?" Natasha asked.

Laura looked into the dark isolated room, and shook her head slowly. Bringing her hand to her chest, as if it ached beneath her touch, she said,

"No. They are so young."

She looked into the room again, and continued with a soft yet heartbroken voice,

"And have such fond memories of him. I don't want them to see him like this."

Natasha nodded slowly, and without another glance back at her, went back upstairs to Steve.

Looking up, Steve saw in her face that she knew.

"Natasha" he said in a voice so exasperated and soft, it was like a breath.

She shook her head firmly. She didn't want to be comforted, or pitied.

"Laura's with him," is all she said, as she took a seat beside Steve.

Steve only nodded, as he looked slowly from the slumbering kids to Natasha. Natasha noticed Steve cradled little Nate in his arms, but as soon as Natasha met Steve's gaze, the soldier slid the baby into her own arms.

Under any other circumstances, Natasha would have resisted. She had yet to hold the child without the presence of his parents. But she knew she was the closest other adult Nate had to family, and she knew of all moments, even if Nate didn't realize it himself, he needed what remained of his family. She felt powerless holding the infant softly in her arms, as she knew downstairs his father was kept breathing only by machines. Who was she to comfort the infant in such a time, and yet she knew she could do nothing else.

Time passed slowly, but soon Natasha focused on nothing but the child as she rocked him slowly in her arms. Her head was tilted down towards him, her green eyes softened and her humming tone sweet as she kept him calm. Little soft tufts of light brown hair looked too much like his father's for her chest not to ache. And when the baby opened his sleepy eyes for just a second, Natasha almost froze as she remembered the first time she saw those same grey blue eyes, and the last.

But her arm eventually loosened again, and as the child drifted into a pleasant dream, she brought the child closer to her. Feeling the warmth of his little body pressed against her own chest, she leaned down and kissed the forehead of her best friend's son.

She stood alone outside that isolated, cool, dark room. Her arms wrapped around herself as she stared unseeing at the bustle of the ICU around her, she stood alone, with not even Steve with her this time.

Laura had said her goodbyes, and now her and Steve would bring Clint's children home and explain that he couldn't be saved. _She_ couldn't save him, nobody could. Not now.

The same doctor brought back a set of papers, which already had Laura's signature on them. Flipping through the papers and charts, Natasha read what she wished she could forget. She knew Clint was an organ donor; he wanted to save a lives even after he died. But she knew this last wish would not be fulfilled, for nearly all of Clint's organs were failing.

A young light haired nurse emerged from the dark isolated room that Natasha stood outside of. Slowly, she approached Natasha and with a sad nod said,

"You can go in, when you are ready."

Natasha knew she never would be, but she ended up by his side seconds later nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Two songs were on repeat while I wrote this. "How to Save a Life" Plano Tribute to Grey's Anatomy, and "Chasing Cars" by Sleeping At Last. Optional recommendation to listen to both, even while reading. Enjoy.

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For the longest time she just looked at him, her pale face darkened by the dim lighting of the isolated room. She hadn't cried, but she may as well had, as tired eyes were shadowed by blue and dark pink circles. She stood without any expression aside from a solemn frown. The only movement in her face was her brows furrowing as her gaze focused on him with saddened eyes.

Her gaze lowered as she stepped toward him slowly. The only sound in the small dark room, was the hum and beeping of machines, and of course - the mechanical funneling of oxygen being pumped into Clint.

Natasha understood why Laura didn't want their kids to see him. Beneath bruises, tubes, drips, drains, and catheters, he looked enough like Clint to make the sight hurt. The Clint they all knew was a hero, someone who saved lives. But now he was succumbing to his own broken body, after an accident that could have happened to anyone. He was only here because the machines forced his failing heart to keep beating.

The coloration of his skin was almost gray. It was hard to tell what on his face was stubble and what was bruises. His face was so pale that both contrasted harshly.

Several deep lacerations were visible on his temple and his lower lip. The skin on his left cheek was rubbed raw, and stained with blood, where he had skid against the ground in the crash.

There was a white bandage around his forehead, and reddened tips of blonde brown hair were visible above the bandage. Natasha could see traces of red under the bandage as well. She assumed the doctors would have tried to at least wash his own blood off, but she figured that even that was in vain. There was too much.

 _"I signed everything I needed to. I just...I can't."_

 _Natasha nodded as Laura stopped talking. Natasha knew very well what Laura couldn't bring herself to do. Placing a hand on Laura's shaking shoulders, Natasha pulled her into an embrace and said so quietly, only Laura could hear the break in her voice._

 _"I'll take care of him."_

 _She felt Laura nod against her shoulder, and Natasha patted the woman's back softly. She watched as Steve awoke Cooper, before handing baby Nate back over to Laura. She saw Laura lower her head, and kiss the baby gently as tears streamed down onto Nate's little head. Steve picked a sleeping Lila up in his arms. Natasha watched as Steve lead the grieving woman and her children out of the hospital._

Natasha stood over where Clint laid, understanding what she had to do. And yet she couldn't bring herself to agree to it, until she saw him.

A tube lead out of the side of his mouth, kept in place only by tape. From the amount of monitors that surrounded him, Natasha knew there were far more tubes and catheters in him than she could see. Each one lead to a machine that kept a part of him alive.

But she knew it wasn't really keeping him alive. Just his body.

She knew then that while his heart still had a beat, that she couldn't let him stay like this. He meant too much for her to be so selfish, to hang onto him when he was all but gone.

Even if they could keep him on this machine, breathing and living, she knew Clint wouldn't have wanted that. He deserved better than such a life - if she could even call it that.

Looking at his closed bruised eyes, she reached for his hand that laid by his side. While covered in IV drips, Natasha managed to wrap her own thin hands in his. His hand, while warm to the touch, was limp and heavy: dead weight. She closed her eyes, as she realized he couldn't feel her, and gently laid his hand back down.

It was in her hands now to do what was best for him. She alone had to make the call whether to keep what was left of him alive through tubes and machines, or to end his life. She couldn't help but remember the call between life and death he had made for her so many years ago. She only hoped now with his life in her hands, that she could do right by him.

She pried her gaze away from him to address the nurse.

"You can remove him from life support."

The nurse shut the door and closed the blinds to provide some privacy. The room seemed darker and colder than it was before. Natasha stood beside him as the nurse said,

"I'm going to begin now. You can sit next to him."

Natasha took a seat silently next to his head, her tired gaze always on her partner. Her eyes were saddened, reddened, and yet she couldn't pull her gaze away from him.

One by one the nurse powered each machine and monitor down. With her tilted gaze on Clint, Natasha listened as the hum and whine of machines died off. The nurse came around next to her and lifted his hand that Natasha held earlier and carefully removed the IVs. With the numerous drips gone, Natasha could see the glint of a silver ring on Clint's scarred hand as the nurse softly placed it down on top of the white sheets.

The nurse removed one of the tubes that ran into his chest. She placed a tape like bandage over where she carefully removed the tube, to stop any bleeding or drainage. The only noise in the room now, was the rhythmic beeping of the EKG, as Clint's pulse spiked and declined.

The nurse reached to finally remove the tape that kept the breathing tube in his mouth. But just as she did, Natasha's looked up at her, and said suddenly,

"Wait."

"Ma'am?" The nurse questioned, still reaching for the tube.

"Just wait."

Her voice was sharp and demanding, leaving no room for the younger nurse to argue. Natasha's concern wasn't on the nurse, but at the realization that when that tube was pulled out, it would be over.

For a moment she only looked at him, eyes misted and dark. Her jaw hung open and quivered, as if she could not find the strength to speak, before finally she said in a hushed, almost desperate, voice,

"Clint."

She didn't expect an answer, but she looked at the EKG monitor anyways - as if somehow her voice would give him strength. But his vitals were dropping, his heart sporadic, failing. There was nothing she could say or do to save him. She knew that, but she couldn't just let him go, not yet.

She found her thin and shaking fingers gently laid upon his cheek. With a swift turn, she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. Her eyes lowered as she continued to move her hand softly, comfortingly. Her subdued and rasping voice broke out of raw silence,

"It's okay."

The tips of her fingers remained upon the side of his face. She could still feel the warmth in his cheek, blood still rushed under his skin. He was still alive, but he wasn't here. She knew this, but she couldn't bring herself to lower her soft hand from his cheek.

"You can go."

She gave her long time partner, best friend, and the closest person she had to family, her consent to leave. With a heavy blink, a tear ran down her cheek. The small amount of light in the room reflected off the trail the small tear made. She whispered now, her voice too hushed to be heard over the machine.

"I'll take care of them. We'll be fine."

Her petite hand slid off the side of his face finally. With her head lowered, and eyes upon his own closed ones, Natasha stood up slowly. The look in her eyes reflected levels of love and grief a spouse would display at losing their partner. And to Natasha, while Clint would never be that to her, he was the closest person she would ever have to that kind of relationship. She loved the man, more than he would ever know. But now, she was the one who had to let him go.

"Are you ready?" The nurse asked.

Natasha looked up at her for a long moment, before shaking her head and saying bluntly,

"No. But go ahead."

She placed her hand upon his heaving chest, knowing that in a few short moments the slow rise and fall would cease. The rasping sound of the oxygen flow faded, as the nurse turned off the machine and proceeded to remove the tube that hung out of his mouth.

Slowly her gloved hands peeled off the tape. She pulled the tube out of his mouth. Natasha looked down at him as his lips hung free of the tube, open and ajar for just a moment.

Natasha watched his last movements. Clint let out one relieving exhale, and then his body relaxed. Natasha's felt her hand on his chest lower as his lungs deflated. His lips slowly drew together after that last huff of breath, before finally closing. Natasha didn't need to see the flatline on the EKG to know that he had passed away.

Natasha didn't notice the sound of the flatline till the nurse turned off the monitor, and the small room grew silent at last. The nurse left without another word, closing the door behind her. The room grew larger, darker, and colder as Natasha stood alone.

Looking down at Clint, her eyes softened. Her lips were parted, but there was nothing to say anymore. Her shoulders rounded in defeat, as she moved her pressed hand from his sunken chest to his shoulder.

She didn't want to keep looking at him, but she could not pull her gaze away. She felt that if she spared a glance away she'd lose even more. She could not believe or comprehend the sadness that befell her, unless she kept looking at him. It was like a disturbing scene that one couldn't pull their gaze away from, expect at the same time it wasn't. He was still just the man she spent more than half her life with. The only man who would she would ever be able to say she loved.

She didn't know nor care what came next. As far as she was concerned, what came next was trivial.

Natasha let her thumb brush against his shoulder one last time, before she let go and wrapped her arms around herself. For that was the only thing she had to comfort herself with now. She didn't know how long it remained just her, Clint's body, and the powered down machines, but for as long as she stood there, she didn't feel nor think. She just held herself, and looked down at Clint. And as time went on for what felt like forever, she never left his side.

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 **Thank you everyone for taking the time to read this. This was inspired off a scene in Grey's Anatomy, if you've seen the show I'm sure you know the scene. I hope, even if sad, you enjoyed this short two-shot. This concludes this short story, but I would appreciate any feedback on what you liked and didn't like for future reference.**


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